


Trust

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs a distraction, which you are more than happy to provide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Dean in Episode 9.13, The Purge. I can’t resist Dean all scruffy in white shirtsleeves and a loosened tie.

 

You had no idea where Sam was or what time he’d be back. You hadn’t even heard him say he was leaving, just the sound of a door slamming while you were changing your clothes in the bathroom. You’d come out to find both Sam and Jim’s wife, Mala, gone, Dean sitting at the end of the bed, staring at the floor, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Hey,” you said, crossing the room and climbing into his lap. “You alright?”

He wrapped his arms around you, nudging your neck with his nose, the couple days growth of his beard scratching you. “I’m fine,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Me and Sam, same shit, different day.”

“Need a distraction?” you asked quietly.

“Yes,” he breathed. 

You took a hold of his tie, wrapping it around your hand, tugging it gently, pulling his lips to yours. He pushed up the bottom of the shirt you were wearing, settling his warm hands on your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“I love it when you wear my shirts,” he murmured against your lips. “But you know what I like even more?”

“No,” you replied. “Tell me.”

“I like taking you out of them,” he growled. He flipped you to your back, moving so quickly your head was spinning, moving like a hunter, strong, feral, frightening. Goosebumps broke out all over your skin and a low heat spread through your belly as his hands slid beneath the shirt and he pulled it over your head, tossing it over his shoulder. He held you down, his hands splayed over your hips, his lips moving over your neck and chest, his tongue dancing around one nipple, then the other. He nibbled a line down your stomach until he was between your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, his bearded cheeks rubbing deliciously over your thighs. He covered you with his mouth, his tongue gliding through your soft folds, flicking at your clit, groaning as your taste spread over his tongue. 

You gripped the ugly blanket on the motel bed and pushed yourself against Dean’s face, anticipation at what was to come making you overly eager. Dean growled, released you and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Oh, so you’re a little anxious, are you, sweetheart?” he said. His jaw was set in a hard line, but his green eyes were flashing with a combination of lust, want and glee. He yanked off his tie, then dropped to the bed, his knees on either side of your body. “You trust me, right?” he asked.

“Y...y...yes,” you stammered. 

“Just like last time?” he whispered.

Desire washed over you, your eyes falling shut and your thighs squeezing together as your pussy clenched with need. You nodded, words escaping you.

Dean grabbed your hands, pulled them over your head and wrapped his tie around your wrists, then he looped the ends of it through the headboard, tying it in a tight knot. He dropped his head, took your breast in his mouth, suckling it, pulling a breathy moan from you. You tugged at the tie restraining you, but it held. 

“Damn it,” you moaned. 

“Okay, baby?” Dean asked, kissing his way up your throat to your mouth. His lips were soft and sweet, brushing over yours. “Does it hurt?” He caressed your bound wrists. “Do you want me to take it off?”

“No,” you gasped. “No, Jesus, I’m fine. Just, please, please don’t stop.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face, his eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. He returned to kissing you, a deep, brain numbing kiss that made you tingle with desire. 

“You good?” he whispered when he pulled away.

You nodded, squirming beneath him, desperate for him to touch you. “I’m good,” you gasped. “Dean, please.”

“Oh, sweetheart, this is only the beginning. You are going to be begging like you wouldn’t believe before I finish with you,” he grinned. “If you’re a good girl and do as you’re told, I will let you come.”

Heat flooded every inch of you, your skin flushing pink. You had no doubt in your mind that he would keep his word, that you would be begging for him by the time he was done with you. This game wasn’t new to either of you.

Dean knew how to draw things out, that was for damn sure. He started at your ears, nibbling at the lobes, gently kissing the sensitive skin beneath them, moving along your jaw, peppering your neck and shoulders with kisses and love bites. He pulled your nipple into his mouth, sucking it greedily as he took your other breast in his hand, kneading it roughly. He moved down your stomach, his hand tracing circles on your skin, his lips following his hand, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin. His hand finally reached the apex of your thighs, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He continued mouthing his way down your body until he had settled himself between your thighs. He blew a warm breath over your clit, sending a shiver through you.

Your hips came up off the bed and you tried to reach for Dean, tried to grab the back of his head, forgetting that your hands were tied over your head. You moaned in frustration, egged on by Dean’s fingers tracing over your swollen nub and his tongue lapping at you. He sighed as he buried his head between your thighs, his middle finger sliding into you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, sending a jolt of intense heat through you. Your legs fell open and your hips came up, allowing Dean to slide his hand beneath you, holding you against his mouth. 

You felt it, the orgasm building, pleasure spreading through your body; you could feel yourself about to let go, your toes curling, your fists clenching, your nails digging into the palms of your hands, your breath tearing in and out of your throat. You drew in a deep breath, ready to let loose with a litany of praise for the man who was giving you so much pleasure. 

But instead of bringing you to orgasm, Dean pulled away and gently kissed the insides of your thighs, his finger still pumping slowly in and out of you, keeping you right on the edge. You were on fire, coming undone, but not quite there.

“Dean,” you moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

“Mmm, not yet, sweetheart,” he whispered before diving back in, his tongue sliding into your soaking wet pussy alongside his finger, thrusting in and out as he brushed his finger back and forth across that one spot that he was always able to find and stimulate, that spot that made your vision go black and your heart skip a beat.

You were writhing beneath him, close again, right at the peak, ready and willing to fall over that edge, but Dean slowed his movements to the point where you were teetering on the edge once again, wanting so badly to come that tears were forming in the corner of your eyes, every nerve ending burning with the need to let go.

“Please, honey, please,” you begged. “I...fuck...I need to come, Dean.” You yanked at the tie binding you to the bed, squirming, cursing.

Dean rose up on his knees, his face damp with your slick, his chest heaving, his pants tented from his arousal. “Oh baby, you are not being a very good girl,” he growled. He popped open the top three buttons of his shirt, then pulled it and his t-shirt off together with one hand. He leaned over you as he loosened his belt, his mouth mere inches from yours, your breath mingling with his. “I think I need to remind you who’s in charge.” He licked a line up your throat, over your jaw to your mouth. “Do I need to punish you, Y/N?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned.

Dean took a hold of your face, holding it in his large hand, pulling you to him. “Damn, that mouth, sweetheart,” he said. He kissed you, a hard, bruising kiss that left you moaning for more. “Answer the question. Do I need to punish you?”

“Yes, please,” you groaned.

Dean yanked the belt free of his pants, folding it in half and holding it in one hand. With his free hand, he turned you over, the tie twisting easily, tightening minutely on your wrists. He pulled your ass into the air and gently rubbed his hand over the soft skin. 

“I think two or three will be enough,” you heard him mumble, then the belt whistled through the air, hitting your right butt cheek, the sting immediate, heat spreading across your ass and pooling in your stomach, your nipples hardening noticeably, a low moan of desire leaving you.

Dean caressed you, gently, his calloused hand rubbing over the welt left by his belt. You felt him shift on the bed, then the distinctive sound of the belt as he raised it and brought it down on your left butt cheek. 

You gasped, falling forward, your breasts rubbing against the threadbare blankets on the bed. Jesus Christ, you wanted to rub your entire body all over the bed, anything to relieve the tension building between your legs.

“One more,” Dean whispered as he lifted you, the belt connecting with your already sensitive skin almost immediately, the sting both painful and unbelievably satisfying.

Dean’s hands were on you in a second, caressing your ass, rubbing it gently. He crouched down behind you, his lips drifting over the reddened skin, his fingers pushing into your wet pussy, followed seconds later by his tongue. He pulled you back toward him, opening you up, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue, finally,  _ finally _ pushing you up to the edge and taking you over, your orgasm rolling through you within seconds, taking you to unbelievable heights of pleasure. 

Dean pushed up behind you, his fingers still moving inside you as he leaned over you and released the tie, pulled you against his chest, all while whispering what a good girl you were and how proud he was of you. You fell forward, balancing on your elbows as Dean slid his thick cock inside you, filling you completely. You moaned, the sound dirty and obscene as he thrust into you, slamming into you, burying his cock so deep that his pelvic bone pressed against your ass.

You pushed back against him, groaning as he brushed your sweet spot with every thrust into you, his hand drifting around your waist to find your clit, rubbing the swollen nub of nerves with two fingers until your walls clamped down on him, drawing his own orgasm from him as yours washed over you, his hips stuttering slightly as his control slipped, his hands tight on your hips, holding you against him.

When Dean finally released you, you fell to the bed, completely satisfied and utterly exhausted. You buried your face in the blanket on the bed, humming contentedly. 

You felt the bed shift, though you didn’t turn to see what Dean was doing. A few seconds later, the tie was removed from your wrists and he was placing soft kisses to the faint marks left there. He stood up, walking across the room and you heard the water running in the bathroom sink. Dean returned to your side and rolled you to your back, using the warm cloth to clean your wet thighs and between your legs, all while pressing tender kisses to your cheeks and forehead, murmuring sweet, quiet words to you. Once you were cleaned up, he wrapped you in a blanket and put a cold bottle of water in your hand before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he emerged a few minutes later, he was in just his boxers, drying his hands on a towel. He crawled into the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, holding your chin gently, turning your head and kissing you softly. 

“How you doing?” he asked.

“Awesome,” you smiled. “You?”

“I needed that,” he grinned. “You’re the perfect distraction.”


End file.
